The Cup
by queenpearl
Summary: A collection of one-shots/multi-part stories of various racing yachts, mostly from the America's Cup. Ch5: One Australia's sinking in the finals of the 1995 Louis Vuitton series shocked the sailing world! An infamous call dubbed her the "Titanic of Yachting".
1. Geronimo

Collision. It was the word that every boat feared the most. More so than sinking. Sinking was death yes, but it was the end. There was a certain finality to it, a peacefulness that always came with Death. But a collision was just the beginning. The beginning of an agonizing time for both vessels involved. As Geronimo found out that morning.

"Damn Aussieboat." She grumbled quietly, side still smarting. She'd lost much of her paint in that encounter and broke several ribs. A mistake on her part, one that had cost her the race she so badly needed. Now the score was all tied up, 3-3. Whoever won the next one tomorrow... well, America had lost last time and Geronimo would never forgive herself if she was the boat who lost the Cup again. Not when she was so close! She hissed in pain, squeezing her eyes shut as her ribs complained. That was the problem with rib wounds. It hurt her to just breathe! How could she possibly race, let alone with a race, like this? Mind you, her crew was doing everything they could to patch her up in time.

"Hey, you doing alright girl?" The question was hypothetical. Of course she was not alright! But Geronimo recognized the voice and opened her eyes, staring down at her captain. Sparks flew from the welders rods as they patched her up and she winced, a whimper escaping her throat. "I know. I know." She felt his hands on either side of her face, fingers making their own soothing circles along her hull. She was always fascinated by human hands. There was always so much going on with them! To a sailboat, action was beautiful and Parker's hands most certainly were. And at the moment their action was to calm their owner's ship which is exactly what they did. Geronimo stilled under her captain's gentle touch. Another piece of hull was welded and she snorted, head tilting side to side a few times and each time he soothed her. "Shh. Easy girl. Shh. Shhh..." Eventually she calmed down, breaths evening as she synchronized hers with his and then gently pressed her nose to his forehead, licking around behind his ear. He laughed softly as he felt her warm tongue. "There's my beautiful girl." He said, thumbing her chin. She gave a soft happy bark, burying her nose into his shoulder. "You've done good Geronimo." He said. Geronimo could sense a difference in him as his scent changed. The temperature around his chest seemed to increase. He was, sad about something and she gave a soft coo. It was her job to keep him happy. Her effort failed to get a chuckle out of him as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face to her cheek. "I pushed you too hard." He said. "We could've cleared if you weren't so tired. I'm sorry." Geronimo offered another coo to assure him she was okay. She _was_ being fixed, not lying on the harbor bottom. "I-I'm going to scratch you." He said at last. "This is, too much. I can't risk you getting hurt again." Scratched? And let the Australians win the Cup, _again?!_ Geronimo snorted angrily, nipping him harshly on the shoulder. He stepped back in surprise. "What?" He asked and she glared. She understood his concern for her but she was putting her foot down dammit! "You, want to keep racing?" He sounded surprised that she'd even want to keep going after what had happened to her. A collision like the one she had suffered would've knocked the spirit out of most ships. She shifted, stretching her nose outside the hanger to look around. Ah, there she was. Boomerang was exactly where Geronimo thought she'd be. She wasn't a bloody mess anymore and her masts were being raised up again. She saw the red boat looking at her and stared right back, her look more of a glare really. She snorted and Geronimo curled her lip, rudder flicking back and forth. The Australian grinned. Parker was well versed enough in sailboat language to recognize what that meant. "Challenge excepted?" He asked his red Goliath and Geronimo tossed her head.

He chuckled. "Well, I guess I won't be going to the committee tonight then." He said and she barked. "I just- want you to know, you've done your mother proud. You've shown your a top boat. We're here aren't we? You won the Louis Vitton and now here we are, the America's Cup Finals!" He chuckled, placing a hand over her nose. "Run hard tomorrow. You don't have to win because I believe we have already won. And now win or lose, we made it. And that's what matters." She nuzzled him and he embraced her. She rested her head over his shoulder once more.

Parker heard his sailboat make a series of growls and it took him a couple of seconds to recognize them for what they were. His fingers tapped the pattern back on her hull and Geronimo straightened as she felt the familiar beat against her hull. The rest of her crew joined in and Geronimo, gazing back over at Boomerang, tossed her head and gave a loud Indian-style whoop! Tomorrow, she would make history. Tomorrow, she would win back the America's Cup!


	2. History of Stars and Stripes

Yachts are distinctly different from schooners, sloops and other single-masted sailing vessels. Unlike other sailboats, which reach full maturity within 6 months, Yachts take up to 3 years before they're fully grown. This is because of their mixed heritage. Genetic research has shown that yachts share a lineage with schooners as well as destroyers. While not military, they do have some features associated with warships the most common being a pair serrated fangs in their mouths. There are two distinct types of yachts, each determined by their intended use; pleasure or racing. We will look at each of these.

 **Pleasure Yachts  
**  
Pleasure yachts are a unique breed both physically and genetically. Though they share the schooner heritage with their relatives they also have cruise ship characteristics as well. This cross is unique among ships and it is unknown where it originated though scientists are continuing to search for the missing link. Their genes are considered to be far healthier than their cousins the racing yachts who we will get to in a moment. Pleasure yachts vary in size and intelligence being as silly as a dogboat or as smart as an ocean liner. But they are all extremely loyal. They love being pampered which is why they are a favorite among the rich as they adjust to the material wealth lifestyle very easily. Owners only need to make sure they get enough exercise as pleasure yachts are also inherently lazy and will prefer to lay around over sailing on a cruise. Health problems are limited though yachts with engines can often develop blockages in their bilge systems as they get older.

 **Racing Yachts**

Racing yachts are by far the most common type of yacht. Born and bred exclusively for racing these vessels are brought up and trained for one purpose, winning! Their personalities make it easy to do this. All sailing ships are inherently fast, a necessity for back when they were the prey of many other ships. But racing yachts take this to another level with a shocking level of focus and drive. They put everything they have into their work on and off the racetrack. You won't find a single lazy racing yacht on the course. They have the highest level of intelligence among all single-masted sailboats, able to strategist and out think their opponents to victory. Its as much a game of brains as it is of brawn. Their breeding is the most heavily regulated of any civilian ship and they are considered the "thoroughbreds of the maritime world" according to one researcher. Like thoroughbreds, selective breeding has weeded out much of the diversity, thus making the species genetically weak compared to their pleasure loving cousins. But careful research has prevented any harmful genetic conditions from passing on. Speed of course is a key gene to focus on as it is speed that carries the racers to victory. But endurance and durability are also important. The courses can be long, with many races run over a short time period. Sometimes several races in a single day! So the ability to recover quickly from one race and go on into the next without any trouble along the way, is vital to a racing yacht's success. And in a world where races are becoming more and more competitive and compact throughout the year, these characteristics are more valuable than ever! Just the slightest edge can make all the difference. And it starts in the blood.

Perhaps one of the most successful of the racing yacht lines is the America line. Named for the schooner from the 1850s, this line has gone on to dominate nearly every Cup race since 1871. With each successive generation, the yachts get bigger and faster, waltzing across the finish line and doing themselves and their lineage proud in their predecessor's namesake race. America proved to be very efficient at passing on the speed gene to her children and winners such as Columbia, Reliance, and Cambria graced the courses. America's most successful champion was her daughter Westward. Born in 1910, the schooner was a freak of nature. Never losing a single one of her 270 odd races. And like her mother, she was extremely influential to future generations with names such as Shamrock and Australia appearing in print.

In 1986 a new champion was born, a 12-metre class yacht that was to be the last winner of her ancestor's race. Stars and Stripes had relatively humble beginnings despite her pedigree. Her father was Intrepid, winner of the 1970 America's Cup. Her mother, Liberty had become the first American yacht in 132 years to lose the cup to a foreign challenger but her bloodline spoke volumes of what she could pass on to her daughter. Liberty was by Ranger who was also a cup winner. He proved to be quite the stud after retirement. His name is seen in over 70% of the world's racing yachts today. Ranger's mother was the Canadian champion schooner Bluenose who passed on the endurance and durability of her kind to future generations. When Ranger was paired with a daughter of America, the outcome was inevitable even if it had to skip a generation. Intrepid had a very similar bloodline to Liberty, also being sired by Ranger with America's name through his dam's side. Although the inbreeding was extreme and of some cause for concern, it did not appear to affect Stars and Stripes in any negative way. Liberty's chief strategist Dennis Conner, would be Stars and Stripes captain and believed strongly in bonding with a vessel before commanding it. Stars and Stripes took to him almost instantly and as soon as she was old enough to be weened, left her mother to live with him. When she turned a year old, she was put into training and took to it with relish. Conner would comment on how she would "prance before the line like a giddy schooner and when her nose faced the course, she would take off running like the devil himself was on her tail."

Off the racetrack, Stars and Stripes had a very similar personality to her mother, so similar in fact that Conner nicknamed her "Little Liberty" even though she was bigger than her mother. That mellow gentle sweetness endeared her to many and she was particularly devoted to her skipper. Loyalty is a trademark of any yacht but Stars and Stripes took it to a whole new level, even going so far as to sleep outside Conner's bedroom window (sitting on her trailer as she was too big by then to sleep indoors.) "It was nice." Conner would say later on. "Because I didn't need an alarm. My alarm would be her nudging me out of bed and proceeding to lick my face. There could be worse wake up calls I suppose." But there were certain traits that set her apart from her parents. From a very young age, Stars and Stripes displayed an intelligence very different from her mother's. "Liberty took a while to figure out what she needed to do out there. Stars and Stripes understood it from the word go!" Conner said. "I'd just point her in the right direction and she'd handle the rest. When she broke in front of the others, there was no way anyone was ever going to catch her. She handled herself like a professional every single time she ran." Undefeated at 2, Stars and Stripes was entered in the Louis Vitton, a necessary stepping stone towards the America's Cup. Winning her first heats in record time, the sleek racer faced her first defeat in 12 starts to an upstart boat named KZ7. KZ7 was of the Shamrock lineage. Born late in the year, she was technically the only boat there that was still a 2 year old. (Like racehorses, yachts all share a universal January 1st birthday) Lightly raced in just 5 previous starts, she handled herself like she was a seasoned professional. Stars and Stripes, who handled better in heavier winds (it was light winds the day she lost) was determined to beat her rival. "I think she knows she lost." Conner said after the race. "She knows that other boat got across the line first and she's gonna be gunning for her the next time they go out." He wasn't wrong. Stars and Stripes knew she had lost and she was _furious_ about it! Where Liberty would sulk in the back of her berth, Stars and Stripes let her frustration show. She fought her handlers and the tug all the way back to the docks, snaking and shying with fangs showing the whole time. She was unapproachable for nearly a full day until Conner managed to calm her down somewhat. "She wasn't angry with anyone but she needed to let off some steam somehow. The only one she was truly angry at was herself. I think inwardly she was berating herself." Conner explained in a later interview. "Once she calmed down, she would do what her mother did. She'd sit in the back of her berth, she doesn't want to be bothered and she'd let you know it too if you tried. But she'd sit there, nose to the wall and I could see she'd be thinking hard. I'd say 'what are you thinking about'? Next time she would race, she'd set a record." Stars and Stripes swept the remaining trial races, earning herself the title of the America's Cup Challenger. A series of match races against the Australian winner, Kookabura III would be held in Perth in early 1987.

The start of Stars and Stripes' four year old season saw her at the forefront of yacht racing in the world's most prestigious race. The America's Cup. The course would be 8 legs long, 2 legs longer than Stars and Stripes had ever run before but the yacht didn't seem bothered by the distance. Deckhand Steve Marshall: "When we first arrived and after the fanfare had subsided somewhat, Conner took her out to look over the course just to see what it would be like. Stars and Stripes sat at what would be the line for a moment, looking at the course in front of her like she was analyzing it, then she tossed her head and snorted as if to say 'I got this'. Conner looked pretty confident when they came back in so I can assume that's what she meant." Whatever Stars and Stripes meant to say, she was right. In the first race she walked away with the victory, beating Kookabura by a comfortable 6 lengths. The second race was a bit tighter with Stars and Stripes needing to come from off the pace. She passed Kookabura late in the last leg to win eased by 3. With the score 2-0 and light winds the next day, a brief pause in the series was called allowing both vessels a time to rest. Stars and Stripes didn't take to the unexpected berth time very well and the schooner in her reared its mischievous head. "It's always been said that a bored sailboat is the worst kind of sailboat. And that's a fact." Conner said. Stars and Stripes was no different. After cribbing out her entire berth, the sailboat went on a little jaunt around the harbor. Naturally the authorities had a field day. A reporter who was on her way to work that day happened to stop by in time to see the events unfold. "She was playing with them, no doubt about it. The police would come up with their motorboats and their sirens and she would just stand there until they got close and then she'd take off running. They'd give chase. She'd jibe and come at them, playing chicken. They'd dive out of the way and the game would begin again. It only ended when Conner got a bucket of flax (highly nutritious, flax seed was also a favorite food of Stars and Stripes.) and began shaking it. She heard that and it was like a pony to the feeder. Only this was a 65 foot yacht that somehow managed to make the whole thing seem funny and adorable at the same time!"

Given no punishment for her antics, Stars and Stripes returned to the course the following day. The outcome was clear the moment the flags went up. To no one's surprise but Kookabura's, Stars and Stripes extended her winning streak to 3. The same number her mother before her had achieved before fading to eventually lose the Cup. Many people had questions about whether her daughter would suffer the same fate. She was fast yes, but the Cup could be a far more brutal opponent than anything the course had to offer. And it nearly got the better of the American. The night before the final race, Stars and Stripes became ill. The cribbing she'd done a day earlier had caused large amounts of arsenic to become built up in her system. While thankfully not life threatening to the yacht (arsenic is a poison to most other ships but for racing yachts its actually a nutritional supplement in small amounts while in large amounts it has an affect similar to colic) Stars and Stripes' fever was the cause for concern. The medicine normally used to help keep it from getting too high would've barred her from competing and the yacht knew it. "She would not let any of us near." Conner said. "Each time we tried she'd bare her teeth and back away as if to say 'I'm not in a good mood, leave me be!' It was only after the doctor's left and she calmed down that I understood. I know some of the crew weren't thrilled but I'd learned to listen to Stars and Stripes by now. Not that I had much of a choice to begin with. What she wants, she gets."

Thus the next morning, Stars and Stripes would face Kookabura one last time. She left her berth early as Conner wished to see how she would handle. She was still running a bit of a temperature and racing was bound to make it worse. Medics were on standby in case she collapsed during the race. Many expected her to. "Word had gotten out and many of the betters turned their backs on her. For the first time in the series, she was not the favorite." Kookabura was 3-5 while Stars and Stripes went off at 3-2. The American didn't seem to notice though or if she did, she didn't care. When Conner brought her up to the line the first time she stared at the commitee boat for a moment and then simply heeled over on her anchor, a position that only a really relaxed sailboat would take.

In the minutes before the start, it was Kookabura who was doing all the maneuvering. Stars and Stripes simply sat there, sails luffing as she waited for the signal. Her eyes were closed as though she was sleeping. Was her fever taking its toll? No doubts but Conner wasn't worried. "I don't think the fever was much of a problem. I've been on her when she's sleeping and she wasn't sleeping here. She was in one of those zones that she gets sometimes, where she's pulling it all together into one single focus. She knew this was the race she had to win, the one that mattered. I don't know if she knew the Cup was on the line but I do know she understood the importance of this victory. So she simply let the competition wear herself out with pointless maneuvering when she had already positioned us in the perfect spot relative to the wind for the first leg."

When the horn sounded it was like Stars and Stripes hadn't been sitting still at all. She was off and racing before Kookabura had even lined up properly yet. Sails filling with wind, Stars and Stripes opened several lengths on her competitor as she rounded the first mark. The breeze was a stiff 20 knots, the kind of wind she excelled at. "Kookabura, some credit has to be given to her because she absolutely ran her eyeballs out. On the last leg, I could tell Stars and Stripes was getting tired. The fever was getting to her because she was slower this lap than before and she was starting to foam out a little bit. Before the race, I'd tossed the helm extender overboard (the extender was often used as a crop to urge the yacht on in the stretch). I wasn't going to ask her if she felt like she couldn't do it." But Stars and Stripes had more heart in her than Conner had anticipated. When Kookabura edged up alongside, the American champion responded. "It was like she'd found a second wind all of a sudden. She just picked up those sails and flew. She wasn't going to let the Australian go by without a good fight first." The two top class racers dueled the last 2 legs, giving fans the thrill of a lifetime. After all, this is what a match race was all about. To have two of the best racers in the world going at it! Rounding the final mark, the two racers were noses apart as they continued their duel upwind to the committee boat. Kookabura, by now thoroughly washed out from her efforts, tried to pull ahead and get the American into her wind shadow but Stars and Stripes wasn't having it. She put her nose in front and the two crossed the line with a mere second time difference between them. "The win was gutsy, courageous and I think it represented Stars and Stripes more than any other win in her career. She was a great racer and she had an ever greater heart. She put it all on the line that day and came out on top through sheer will. How many racing yachts can say the same?"

Retirement was inevitable after this win. The America's Cup was the most prestigious race and no other could compare. There was simply no vessel left for her to beat. Returning to the United States to a champion's welcome, Stars and Stripes was turned out at the NYYC's yacht grounds for 50 days to recuperate before being officially retired and sent to the breeding shed. Though humans are the only species known to shed tears, it is said that when she was sailed away from Conner, Stars and Stripes cried.

Stars and Stripes has proven just as successful in breeding as her predecessors have been. Oracle Racing's entire fleet is composed of sons and daughters of this wonderful jenny. Two have become Cup winners with a third set to defend the title. If she wins, Stars and Stripes will have tied with America for the number of Cup winners produced by a Cup winner. She is truly one of the all-time greats.


	3. 2013: The Eyes Tell the Story

September 10, 2013

17 couldn't recall a time in which she felt so exhausted, sore, and humiliated at the same time. She was supposed to be the fastest in her class! She should be wiping the course with her challenger's humiliation but she was the one getting the dose instead! 17 wasn't her name. Neither she nor her challenger ever had an official name. They were referred to merely by their sail numbers. And that was okay with her. The number was unique in itself. No other boat carried the number USA 17 on their mainsail. She hobbled back to her berth, furious to see the challenger taking the time to play about. Clearly she wasn't tired!

"This is ridiculous!" She huffed, cuffing the dock harshly.

"Tell me about it." said an old blue yacht docked nearby. "That was the worst I've seen anybody lose, ever! At least Liberty gave it her best shot, you weren't even _trying!"_

"Oh and what do you suggest I do?!" 17 hissed, rounding on her. She was bigger but not by much. They were close in length though 17 looked larger due to her foils which were bristling along her pontoons.

The other yacht merely blinked as she turned to face her, not intimidated by the 34th America's Cup Defender. Her answer was simple. "Win."

"How?"

She shrugged. "You're the racer here, _Black India._ You figure it out."

That name, it triggered something in 17. She never even knew she _had_ a name. A proper name. Not just a number. She didn't even know she _cared_ that she had one! Briefly stunned into silence she rasped "Why did you call me that?"

The other yacht simply offered a small smile. "I think you know." She replied and left, leaving 17 to her thoughts.

"Black India." She whispered to herself, savoring the name. She looked down at her reflection, seeing the black hulled catamaran with the distinctive amber eyes staring back at her. Most catamarans had green or blue eyes. Most yachts for that matter as well. But amber was very common in schooners, something that made 17 suspect her heritage.

It was no secret that most Cup winners were descended from the first. America had proven extremely successful in the breeding shed, perhaps more so than she did on the racecourse. 17's challenger was also descended from her. But the eyes were what did it. Amber, like hers. Mind you 17 had only ever seen the black and white photos of her later in life. But she could imagine their color. Vivid shades of liquid gold swirling with flecks of black. Eyes just like her own. And the eyes, told the most important story of all.

17 straightened up, her muscles suddenly no longer sore. She no longer felt tired. It was like a new wind had been breathed into her sails. She turned to her challenger, the Kiwi invader and bared her teeth, foils flicking up and down in a classic "challenge accepted" maneuver. She had done it at the start of this series when they'd first met but this time was different and that difference was clearly seen. Before it was for tradition, now it was for herself!

Aotearoa was secretly pleased to see this behavior from her competitor. 17 had been so closed off it was a wonder she could race or win at all! The Kiwi knew the Yank had been holding back. Everything about her bloodline and her past performance before the start of the Cup said she could run and win races! But it seemed like that spark had been lost. She was happy to know it hadn't died. It would be a tough fight from here on out. And even though she held the point advantage, she knew 17 would do everything she could to close that. And Aotearoa _loved_ a tough fight! She would lose some, and she might yet win this thing. But one thing was for certain, _Black India_ had returned. She wanted her cup and Aotearoa was standing in her way!


	4. Mission of Morality: The Fastnet Tragedy

Broadsword had only been in service for a month. Barely a month, being commissioned on May 7th. Being so new to the fleet meant she was still figuring things out. Her duties were simple enough though she was still learning the best ways of being efficient at them. And efficiency was badly needed at the moment.

"This is getting ridiculous!" She grumbled as her steel bow forced its way through a large swell. The wind was howling in her ears, sharp and cold. Overijssel had been out of radio contact for the last half hour but the last the frigate heard from the Dutch ship, she was on her way to rescue her fifth batch of sailors. Just 2 days ago the weather was calm, pristine and clear. Now, it was a Force 8 gale! Vessels were turtling and capsizing left and right. Those that managed to ride out the storm thus far were taking a severe beating. For the past 2 hours, Broadsword's radio had been filled with the shrieking "maydays" of those poor little vessels, unequipped to handle the violent seas. Built for speed and little else. The Coast Guard's meager force of Nimrods and Westlands were being run into the ground trying to keep up with the call volume. Thus the young frigate was called away from her patrol area to the north and asked to join in as the Search Coordinator. Broadsword had the training to deal with this. All Royal Navy ships did before they were commissioned into Her Majesties Fleet but she still felt it wouldn't be enough. She wasn't ready for this! She wasn't ready for this at all!

A sharp cry was brought forth on the wind and Broadsword's bow snapped around towards it. She knew a cry for help when she heard one and sounded her horn in reply though she doubted the sound would ever reach the foundering vessel. Still, she made her way over. It was slow going in these seas but thankfully by the time she arrived the vessel was still afloat though looking a bit dazed and bruised.  
"Bloody rogue wave broadsided me. Thought I was done for." She panted. "What's your name?" Broadsword asked. "Accanito." She replied. "And it seems my rudder has broken." "So it seems it has." Broadsword agreed. The small stick at her stern had snapped like a twig in these seas. "Here." The frigate tossed her a line. "I'll get you back to shore." "Thank you, fille." "You French?" "Oui. I hail from Cherebourg." "I never would've guessed. Your accent is almost nonexistant." Accanito chuckled. "A fine compliment from an English lass." She said. "You come here often?" "Now don't flirt with me little girl." Broadsword chided her. "Oui! Can I not have a little bit of fun?"

The two continued on with Accanito weathering the swells reasonably well under the circumstances. But it was inevitable that others were not so lucky. Broadsword came upon her second racer. Golden Apple, an Irish yacht with reasonable experience compared to some of the others. She'd lost her mast in the storm, the single pole unable to take the strain of such high winds. It had toppled down, the boom resting in the fore-deck with the spars draping across the sea. Broadsword did not need to hear Accanito's sad moan to know the truth for herself. Poor little Apple was doomed, her injuries fatal. She looked up at the frigate with such a pleading helpless look it made Broadsword's heart twinge. She took the crew off before holding the yacht fast to her. "I'm so sorry." She whispered to her. "It's alright." rasped Apple. Broadsword held one of her crew's pistols, pressing its muzzle to the yacht's head and pulled the trigger. To her the shot rang out louder than anything the storm could produce. Though seemingly harsh, it was a kinder fate than the one that would've awaited her. Slowly, she let the Irish yacht go, watching her body float away from her before being swallowed by the waves.

Broadsword continued on to her station. She came across two more yachts along the way. One was already dead with a broken neck. The other, with a snapped keel, was Broadsword's job to finish off. The frigate felt sick to her stomach by the time she finally reached the grounds. "There you are." Anglesey had been on station from the outset, coordinating the rescue efforts. The Island-class was out of her league and needed a replacement. "Golden Apple of Ireland is dead. As are Maligawa III and Taruntula. Taruntula was lost by the time I got to her. The other two..." Broadsword couldn't continue. Anglesey's gaze was full of sympathy. "Allamander and Ariadne are both missing. We assume they were lost as well. Silver Apple is being towed to Courtmacsherry by Deirdre." She said. "Damn." Broadsword muttered. "I see you saved one though." She nodded to Accanito who for her part had been silent pretty much the whole voyage. Anglesey untied her from the frigate and scooped her up on her deck. "I'll take her in. This mess is yours to deal with now." "Thanks a bunch." Broadsword grumbled. "How the _bloody fucking hell_ could this happen?!" She looked at Accanito. "I don't know what those idiots in the officials box were thinking when they sent this race off but if they don't get their goddamn heads screwed on straight about this then I will screw them on for them!" "We race because we love to race. Nothing more." Accanito said. "You deserve to be protected while you do it, no different than us." Broadsword muttered. "You saved my life, mon ami. I know you don't feel like a hero but in my eyes you are." "But the others... I shouldn't have..." "If you hadn't, they would've suffered more. Death is something we have come to expect. We know the risks, just the same as you. But we do what we do because it what we are born to do. In that, we are the same." She said. Broadsword nodded and Anglesey turned to go. "And Broadsword!" Accanito called. "Thank you." Broadsword dipped her head, watching as the two vanished from sight.

Once they were gone, Broadsword turned her attention to her newly assigned task. "Now I need to find a way to clean up this mess and make sure it _never_ happens again!" She muttered and began working the radio...

 _"As of 15 August 1979, the list of yachts that injured or sunk in the 1979 Fastnet race is as follows:_

SV _Accanito_ of France, broken rudder. Towed.

SV _Allamader_. Abandoned.

SV _Alpha II_

SV _Amanda Kulu_

SV _Andiano Robin_

SV _Angustura_

SV _Animal_

SV _Ariadne_. Abandoned. *

SV _Arkadina_

SV _Asteries_

SV "Autonomy". Towed to Dunmore East.

SV _Ballydonna_

SV _Battle Cry_

SV _Billy Bones_. Abandoned.

SV _Blue Dolphin_

SV _Bonaventure_ of Britain. Abandoned.

SV _Cabadah Ocean Wave Option_

SV _Callirhaex 3_. Abandoned.

SV _Camargue_ of Britain. Abandoned.

SV _Casse Tete_

SV _Charioteer_ of Britain. Sunk.

SV _Combat II_. Retired to Cork.

SV _Corker_

SV _Crazy Horse_

SV _Détente_

SV _Double O Two_

SV _Farthing_

SV _Enia_

SV _Fiestina Tertia_. Abandoned. *

SV _Finndabar_. Abandoned.

SV _Gan_. Abandoned.

SV _Gekko_

SV _Golden Apple_ of Ireland, disabled. Abandoned. Crew rescued by RAF Lynx helicopter.

SV _Golden Leigh_

SV _Good Intentions_

SV _Grimalkin_. Abandoned and subsequently recovered. Read John Rousmaniere's 'Fastnet, Force 10'  & Nick Ward's 'Left for Dead'.

SV _Gringo_. Reported as 'believed sunk'.

SV _Hestral_. Abandoned. Crew of 6 rescued by Royal Navy helicopter.

SV _Hoodlum_

SV _Impetuous_

SV _Innovation_

SV _Jan Pott_ of Germany, Flensburg. Broken mast.

SV _Juggernaut_

SV _Kestel_. Abandoned.

SV _Korsar_

SV _La Barbarelle_

SV _Little Ella_

SV _Magic_ of Britain. Sunk.

SV _Maligawa III_. Abandoned.

SV _Marionette VII_

SV _Mexxanini_

SV _Morning Cloud_ of Britain, broken rudder.

SV _Morning Glory_

SV _Mulligatawny_

SV _Mutine_

SV _Pachena_

SV _Pegasus_

SV _Ocean Wave_

SV _Option2_ of France, Granville

SV _Pepsi_ of England

SV _Pepsi_ of Holland

SV _Pinball Wizard_

SV _Polar Bear_ of Britain. Sunk. Crew rescued.

SV _Regardless_ of Cork, broken rudder. Assisted by _LE Deirdre_ Towed by _RNLB Ethal Mary_

SV _Samurai II_

SV _Scaldis_

SV _Scaramouche_. Retired and made own way back to Plymouth."Although we hadn't the satisfaction of being one of the 88 which rounded "the rock" we were content in knowing that we had brought the boat and ourselves back in one piece"-Steve Cross.

SV _Schuttevaer_ of Holland

SV _Silver Apple_ of Howth: lost steering, assisted by _LE Deirdre_ , made a jury steering rig, retired to Courtmacsherry under own power.

SV _Sinndkabar_

SV _Skat_

SV _Sophia_

SV _Sophie B_

SV _Tam O'Shanter_

SV _Tarantula_ of France

SV _Thunderer RAOC_

SV _Trophy_. Abandoned.

SV _Tiderace IV_. Abandoned.

SV _Wild Goose_ of Singapore

SV _Yachtman_ of Spain

SV _Zap_

 _"It is of the utmost importance that a tragedy such as this one never happens again. With that in mind, our flagship HMS Victory together with the American flagship USS Missouri, the JMSDF flagship JSDS Kongo II, and with the full cooperation of the RCN and the RAN a new set of rules is being proposed with the potential for a boycott on the 1981 series if they are not implimented by that time. This year we all witnessed the awful reality these racers faced. I myself was put in the difficult position of showing mercy to two of them. Some might look at this and say it is better to end racing altogether. But you see these little vessels, braving the toughest seas in the world for a trophy, and wonder why they do this? Why do we risk our lives for a country that will never thanks us! Most of us will see the scrapyard in the next 30 years. So why serve if that fate is certain? Just as we choose to serve our country so they choose serve the cause of their hearts. Racing is their life and to take that away from them would be taking away from ourselves. It is my hope that in the future, these brave little ships who sacrifice as much for their cause as we do for ours, will be given better opportunity, better preparedness and a better chance to live and to continue doing what they love under safer conditions." ~_ HMS Broadsword's speech to the Royal Navy Council consisting of HMS Victory, HMS Warrior, and Cutty Sark, 18 January 1980.


	5. One Australia's Last Race

Ice blue eyes met silver and held for several seconds before the latter pair looked away. "Don't let her get to you big girl." Bertrand assured his big yacht. One Australia tossed her head, shooting one last glare at Black Magic. The big New Zealander was a formidable opponent and in their last race, had suffered the first defeat of her nearly 40 race career. It was a streak that One Australia was determined to keep alive. She had to if she was going to make it to the Cup itself. 3 minutes to the start and the two yachts were about to heat up their prestart maneuvering. 2 minutes, Black Magic came at her on starboard forcing One Australia to move for the right of way boat. She was nearly forced over the line early but saved herself with a last minute tack that put her to leeward of the black boat. Having the rights now she forced the Kiwi into irons just as she did in their previous race. It worked once again and with seconds to the start, One Australia was cruising on ahead with her opponent left in her wake.

Once the horn sounded, the race was on! One Australia was in the perfect covering position and each time Black Magic tacked to find clear air, she tacked to cover. It was an advantage of being to windward. The disadvantage was that the Kiwi had rights on her and could luff her up if she wasn't careful so One Australia kept enough horizontal distance between them to prevent that. Rounding the first mark, the gray-white boat had a 20 second lead on her opponent. Her spinnaker launching was textbook and she began to put some open water between them. At her helm, Bertrand could feel the power of his yacht as she raced across the waters off San Diego. But that wasn't the only thing he was in tune to. He was listening to her breathing, the rhythm of her stride. Was she struggling? Was she tense? One Australia was not the type of boat to relax during a race. She gave it her all when she went out. Her muscles were taut with tension but she progressed easily. Each powerful stride sending her 70 feet closer to the finish. Bertrand felt confident that if he asked her, she'd give him more run. She was in "cruise control" at the moment.

 _"And it's One Australia in command around the first mark."_ On the committee boat sat a host of people. Judges, owners, and standing out on deck with a pair of binoculars was course announcer Pat Healy. As chairman of the committee, he was responsible for the safety of the boats and their crews. It was his call that allowed One Australia and Black Magic to race today. He had no idea he and thousands of others both in San Diego and watching the race live around the world, were about to witnesses the most tragic event in America's Cup history.

As One Australia rounded the windward mark, Bertrand took a glance behind him. Black Magic had made up some ground on the last leg. She was faster than his boat and it would take all his skill to keep her from overtaking them. An easy spinnaker drop worked in the gray boat's favor as the Kiwi's sail went in the water. It took them a minute to get it stowed away properly and during that time One Australia was getting away. Not for long. Coming around for the beat to windward, Black Magic just exploded. The black boat had a phenomenal turn of foot and like her mother Kiwi Magic, could get the job done in record times! Approaching the bottom of the course once more One Australia's lead had evaporated. Black Magic gained ground on the inside, forcing the gray boat to give her room at the mark. Having the shortest course the black boat quickly took command coming out of the turn despite a far better spinnaker set by her opponent. _"And it's Black Magic who takes the lead around the leeward mark. Beautiful spinnaker set by One Australia but will it be enough to catch the black boat from New Zealand?!"_ On board One Australia, Bertrand could feel his boat's frustration. He patted the wheel. "Plenty of race left, big girl. We'll catch her again." He assured. One Australia settled back into rhythm, her pace slightly more intense than before. She began to close on the black boat, slowly at first but it quickly became apparent that One Australia was gaining. _"Black Magic has the lead as they close in on mark 4 but just look at One Australia! One Australia is closing the gap rapidly, she might just get up in time to have an overlap. Can she do_ _it?"_ Looking at Black Magic as she got bigger and bigger in his view, Bertrand believed he could. He adjusted course, steering to port of the black boat. One Australia called on all her class as she just managed to squeeze in, forcing Black Magic out wide as the two rounded. Now in command once more, the course was set for the finish. One Australia knew Black Magic was close behind her but she paid no attention to the Kiwi boat. Her focus was on the water ahead. "This is it, big girl." Bertrand said to her. "Just you and me. Come on!" He gave her a tap with his helm extender and getting the message, One Australia shot forward. The acceleration was such that Bertrand had to grip the wheel hard to keep from flying off. _"And it's One Australia! She leads by 10 seconds, now 12. She's continuing to widen with each and every stride!"_ It was bad luck to be smiling before the race was won but Bertrand couldn't keep the grin off his face. His yacht was magnificent! With this win, she could go on to face America3 in the finals and One Australia could certainly beat that Yank upstart! The Cup would go back to Australia!

This dream was literally shattered seconds later. One Australia leaped off a rather large swell, hull groaning at the change in pressure. She came down hard. There was as loud snap. To Bertrand it sounded like breaking a dry twig over a fire but looking down he could see it was much more serious. The middle of her cabin beneath the mainmast had caved in. Bertrand snapped out the main, dumping all the wind out of the sail. One Australia hadn't made a sound but she screamed now as Bertrand attempted to pull her up just 175 feet from the finish. He was having a time of it, his yacht fighting him for every foot and for a minute, she was winning. Bertrand could hear the sickening sounds of her broken hull slapping together, a harsh knocking grinding sound that got progressively worse. The two halves of the break began to separate, with each half de-laminating from the other. After a few more yards, Bertrand was successful in getting his yacht stopped. The chase boats came alongside to take off the crew and with a nod from their captain, the eight men leaped over the side. Bertrand himself tied down the helm and took a leap but off the opposite side. He needed to see the damage himself. Paddling up to One Australia's bow he got a hold of her forestay and used it as a leadline, bringing her head around. He hit the careen pressure point and got her on her side. And sweet lord what it showed! _"There seems to be something wrong with One Australia. She's stopped. The chase boats have come alongside and the crew is getting in them. Oh, it looks to be her starboard keel faring. You can see, the hull's buckled inwards. Oh, and the mainmast has driven down as well, I have never seen an injury this bad before. This is not good ladies and gentleman."_

Bertrand touched the hull and his fingers were immediately coated in blood. "Damn it!" He struck the water. One Australia gave an inquisitive whimper. Her breaths were harsh, teeth bared against the pain. Smaller waves hit the pair as Black Magic went right on by to the finish, a tantalizing 50 feet away. Bertrand sighed. "It's not your fault big girl." His right hand stroked her nose. "You did good. You did very good." Unseen by her, his left hand was reaching down to his belt. All crewman carried a knife in case they ever got caught up in the rigging but the blades could serve a second purpose as well. And it was one that Bertrand had no choice but to use now. From his nearby position on the committee boat, Leahy saw this and knew what was to come. He was reluctant to speak but he had his job. _"Black Magic comes to the line now and she walks over it! This match race is over. Bertrand is looking over the damage and has determined it to be too serious to repair. For those of you watching this I encourage you to turn your heads away. This won't be pretty."_ Bertrand pulled the knife from his sheath, resting it across her shoulder. One Australia whimpered and struggled a bit, trying to rise. She knew what was about to happen. Bertrand was quick to soothe her. "Easy! Easy! You're alright. Shh, shh..." He readied his knife, hand shaking. A rigging line came down and steadied it. He looked back, then down at her once more as he took several deep breaths. She nodded, giving him her silent permission. "I'm so sorry." He said and drove the knife home. 12 meters were known to have strong sturdy skeletons but when they lay on their side, a gap would open up between the scapula and the sternum. It was a small gap and only a specially designed blade could fit. A blade issued only to the boat's crew should the worst happen. Used for centuries it was the quickest method to dispatch an injured or disabled vessel and most preferred it to the more modern method of an anesthesia overdose. One Australia gave a half-squeal, then fell silent. It was over in seconds. Blood burbled out around the blade, coating Bertrand's hand. It was still warm and gave off a metallic reek. He let go of the handle and his bloody fingers stroked his yacht's lifeless hull. He leaned down over her face, kissing her cheek. He sat there for a few moments, gathering himself. Then he removed his knife, letting the water clean it off. The chase boat came alongside and picked him up.

Black Magic circled around. She seemed confused as to what had transpired. She recalled seeing One Australia pass in front. Had something gone wrong? She came alongside and lowered her head to sniff the gray yacht. Immediately her demeanor changed. Head down, ice blue eyes darkened, the subdued Kiwi got One Australia by the back of her neck and began dragging her. Bertrand made to stop her but collected himself. He was curious to see what Black Magic was up to. The crowd was silent as the black boat dragged her opponent across the finish line, then looked to the committee boat a silent message in her eyes. She might've won, but this race belonged to One Australia. Then she calmly brought her back around to where she was before. She set One Australia down and played with her rigging, centering the boom and tightening the backstay and the forestay as best she could. The half lowered jib was raised. Bertrand gasped as he realized what she was doing. When a high ranking sail ship died it was a military custom to have the sails set though drawn taught and secured so they didn't catch the wind by accident. The only yacht to have this done to her was America in 1945. Now One Australia was recieving the honor. Once finished, Black Magic nosed her around so her nose pointed towards the finish line. Then she backed off, head bowed. Three boatlengths away, she raised it again and gave the loudest howl Bertrand had ever heard. It was a cry joined by all the other boats in the area. People removed their hats, and some cried. Knife still in hand, his fingers, clothes, and parts of his face stained with blood, Bertrand looked back at One Australia's still form and said "She was the best I ever commanded."

 **RIP One Australia**

 **(April 2, 1992-March 6, 1995)**


End file.
